


A Way So Familiar

by yeah_alright



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Cuddling, Established Relationship, First Kiss, First Realization of Feelings, M/M, Spooning, first sleepover, first touch, i fell in love with them, i hope you do too, just a few minor references to sexy times, just sleeping over, no smut soz, not sex though, this is just a lot of sweetness and fluff and lovely reminiscing, ziam, ziam is so pure in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-15 04:17:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17521859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeah_alright/pseuds/yeah_alright
Summary: Liam squeezes Zayn’s hand and presses a light kiss to his fingers. He freezes when Zayn stirs, worried he’s woken him. He’s not ready to wake him. He’s enjoying being held as he wades through the memories of that first night he'd held Zayn. Held him so properly and thoroughly that he had fallen asleep still holding him tightly.That night of pizza and beer and unadulterated flirting, when their playfulness had taken on a greater significance. It had felt revelatory. Like it was all finally – fucking finally – happening.Liam wakes up in Zayn’s arms and reminisces about some of their “firsts.”





	A Way So Familiar

**Author's Note:**

> I just love spooning, ok. I love falling asleep spooning and I love waking up being spooned. Waking up being held by someone you love and just basking in that warmth seemed like a perfect setting for a short fic. And Ziam are so pure and soft in my mind, they felt like the right fit. 
> 
> The title is from "The Origin of Love" from Hedwig & the Angry Inch.
> 
> Thanks to my lovely supportive friends for reading and commenting and gently flailing. It was exactly what I needed for this. <333

Nudged awake by a gentle scrape of stubble on the side of his neck, Liam’s eyes flutter open. The sleepy blinks that follow send a ripple of vague unease down the length of his body, the entirety of which is cradled by that of the man behind him. 

Something’s not quite right. 

Hoping it’s just the haze of being half-asleep playing tricks, Liam squeezes his eyes shut then opens them wide, trying to jumpstart his senses in what feels and looks like very early morning. 

As his eyes strain to adjust, Liam focuses on the feeling of the body pressed against his. The slim, hair-covered calf slipped between his own, slender feet sandwiching his right foot. Warm thighs flush against the back of his, a soft but noticeable bulge pushed gently into his arse. A skinny arm slung over his waist, its hand wrapped warmly around his, holding the cluster of their entwined fingers snugly against his chest. 

He’s enveloped. 

That’s what has his sleep-wracked brain searching for an explanation.  _ He’s  _ usually the enveloper, the one pressed up against his paramour. It’s meant to be  _ his  _ arm slung over someone else. He’s not used to waking up to someone nuzzling the back of  _ his  _ neck. If Liam’s woken by something other than his alarm or his own eagerness to start the day, it’s Zayn shifting in his arms, usually backing his small, firm arse into Liam’s morning wood, pulling a rush of blood toward it like a magnet. 

Zayn. 

Liam’s eyes, having somewhat adjusted to the darkness, are able to make out the familiar checkerboard pattern on the forearm nestled between his pecs. 

His relief pours out in a sigh.

_ It’s just Zayn wrapped ‘round you, you tosser. Relax. _

Liam adjusts his arm so _ he’s  _ holding Zayn’s hand and nestles them back into his chest. 

He laughs silently at himself for allowing the pre-dawn darkness to confuse him. It’s just that Liam can’t remember another time  _ Zayn  _ had cradled _ him. _

At least not in their sleep. Their beds have borne witness to rather impressive versatility in their waking hours, but their cuddling is one-sided. Liam holds Zayn. He just does. He likes to make Zayn feel safe. Protected. And Liam likes to feel needed. 

The first night they spent together, they had just slept. Liam had gone to Zayn’s and they’d ordered pizza and drank beers and flirted so embarrassingly badly it makes Liam cringe to remember. Though, with the insight of retrospection, Liam supposes the flirting wasn’t actually embarrassing  _ or _ bad, just earnest and unguarded – exactly what they had needed from each other – and the realization elicits a flutter in his heart that ushers out the cringe.  

Flashes from that evening play like a slideshow behind his eyes: the good-natured teasing and poking each other in the ribs – anything to trade touches – and the eyes darting away to break eye contact that had gone on just a bit too long to know what to do with exactly.

Liam squeezes Zayn’s hand and presses a light kiss to his fingers. He freezes when Zayn stirs, worried he’s woken him. He’s not ready to wake him. He’s enjoying being held as he wades through the memories of that first night he'd held Zayn. Held him so properly and thoroughly that he had fallen asleep still holding him tightly. 

That night of pizza and beer and unadulterated flirting, when their playfulness had taken on a greater significance. It had felt revelatory. Like it was all finally – fucking  _finally_ – happening. 

Liam feels the comforting weight of that night return to him, remembering Zayn asking him to stay. He had asked so shyly, with his head tilted down, eyelashes dusting his cheeks, as he held Liam’s hands, anchoring him before he could stand up from the couch to leave. 

_ “Stay, yeah? We don’t have to...do...I mean...I just mean, sleep here, eh?” _

Liam had never been asked a more perfect question. 

_ “Y-yeah. Ok. Love to. Yes.” _

Liam sighs contentedly at the sweetness of their former selves, re-living how simultaneously exciting and soothing it had felt to crawl into Zayn’s bed that first time. How they had calmed each others’ nerves with gentle kisses on the lips and light touches on chins and earlobes and eyebrows, eye contact broken each time the other was unable to keep himself from looking down at the other’s lips, the other’s cheeks, the other’s everything. And how, as the kisses had strayed a bit to jawlines and necks and shoulders – in a way that signaled slowing down rather than ramping up – Zayn had given him one last emotion-laden look through smiling eyes, one final soft kiss on his lips, and then gently turned away, pulling Liam’s arm with him so it wrapped around his side. Zayn had snuggled into him, pressing himself as far back into Liam as he could before tucking their clasped hands into his chest. Liam had been overwhelmed with the sensation of all of Zayn against him, every nerve ending in the front half of his body sending triumphant signals racing around the rest of him, whooping and high fiving and excitedly bumping into each other. He’d never felt so thoroughly thrilled and peaceful at once. He'd felt certain.

Zayn’s breathing had slowed and settled so quickly after they had whispered their goodnights in the dark that Liam almost worried his heartbeat would disturb him. He had lain awake for what seemed like half the night. But for the first time, he wasn’t kept from sleep for want of knowing where to put his right arm, or from his shoulder aching from being in the same position for too long. He had stayed awake because he hadn’t  _ wanted _ to fall asleep, hadn’t wanted to miss out. He had wanted to remain in that moment for as long as possible, savoring the feeling of Zayn cozied into him and sleeping soundly, moored by their blossoming relationship and Liam’s firm hold. 

The next morning, Zayn had told Liam he’d never slept so well while sharing a bed. Never expected that he could. But he’d felt so safe in Liam’s arms, he had said, that he'd fallen asleep straight away and had stayed asleep all night, maybe for the first time ever. No one else before (not that there had been so many) had felt quite like that. They weren’t  _ bad  _ – Zayn would never speak ill of his previous loves, or even likes – but they hadn’t been...quite right. Not right the way Liam had felt wrapped around him. 

Zayn had never been that comfortable with anyone before. He’d always just patiently waited for them to drift off so he could perform Ross’s Hug and Roll move and get some sleep. “But last night,” he had said, “with you, like. I don’t remember wondering when I might fall asleep, you know? Don’t think I even got the chance to hope I would. And that’s a real first.” Liam had broken into a huge smile at that, imagining that his eyes crinkled just about as severely as his heart clenched in that moment. 

Zayn shifts his legs just then, interrupting Liam’s reverie, and Liam attends carefully.

As Zayn nuzzles in, Liam’s skin prickles at the faint touch of Zayn’s lips against it. His mouth pulls into a slight smile as he flashes back to the first time those beautiful, soft lips brushed against his own. 

They had both been too shy to simply take what they had really wanted in that moment. They were stood impossibly close, their faces nearly touching, but neither seemed able to close what little space remained between their lips. They had just watched each other watching each other, breaths deepening, eyes roving. After an era, Zayn had leaned forward and Liam’s breath had hitched. But Zayn didn’t lean straight in. Instead, he pulled aside Liam’s collar and placed a single, gentle kiss where Liam’s neck met his shoulder. It had drawn a shuddery breath from Liam, and his hands had darted out to grab Zayn’s hips. He hadn’t meant to do that; if he had told his hands to grab Zayn, he doubts it would have happened. They had acted on their own authority – out of pure, unthinking desire.

Zayn had straightened back up, his lips barely parted, looking to Liam as if they were waiting to be invited over. As Zayn’s eyes searched Liam’s, imploring him, Liam had swallowed hard, his tongue darting out to wet his lips and his eyes dipping to Zayn’s mouth. Zayn’s tongue mimicked Liam’s as he  _ finally  _ (bloody hell) leaned in, agonizingly slowly, his eyes glued to Liam’s lips until his own captured them.

It had been the softest, most luxurious sensation Liam had ever experienced, sending a wave of heat down his entire body. He had felt as though he were melting into Zayn, but also like he might have floated away if Zayn hadn’t grabbed each of his hands, lacing their fingers together, as they spent what felt like an eternity locked in each other’s space. 

It had felt like an answer to a question he hadn't even known how to ask.

Thousands of kisses later and Liam can still conjure the feeling of that first one. He dearly loves reminiscing about his and Zayn’s firsts. But there’s one second he prefers slightly to its predecessor: the second time their arms “accidentally” brushed. He remembers the first time, of course, and it was exhilarating. But it was a bit too uncertain, left too many open questions.

Had it been an accident or intentional? And so what if it  _ had been  _ intentional – had it  _ meant  _ anything? Had Zayn felt the same electricity course through his body, standing every hair on end? Had he even noticed? Liam couldn’t know. And he hadn’t dared ask. So that touch, while thrilling, hadn’t been  _ the  _ touch for him.

_The_ touch was the second time their arms brushed that same way, a few days later. That one was no accident. Liam had felt sure of that. And the sureness must have been written across his face, because when Zayn turned slightly to canvass Liam’s expression moments after the soft hair of his arm had set Liam’s on fire, Liam swore he saw a change in Zayn’s expression – a flash of gratitude for the acknowledgement beaming from Liam’s eyes. Yeah. There had been a look. Nearly imperceptible if you weren’t looking for it, aching for it. But it was there. Liam had seen it, and he had known. _That_ touch _had_ been intentional. Zayn had meant it. And it had started everything.

Liam smiles at the memory, sighing contentedly. Zayn’s scent mingled with his own hangs thickly in the air surrounding them, and he inhales greedily, soothed by the familiarity. He runs his fingertips gently up and down Zayn’s forearm, detouring occasionally to carefully trace the boundaries of his tattoos. His eyes follow, meandering lazily along. The early morning light beginning to seep in through the slats of the blinds casts a perfectly soft glow on Zayn’s flawless brown skin, and Liam’s eyelids feel lighter with every inch of it his eyes dance over.

Sometimes he still can’t quite believe he gets the privilege of tracing gentle lines along someone as beautiful as Zayn. He’s done so hundreds of times at this point, but it still sends sparks racing through his veins. Maybe because he still remembers the very first touch so vividly. Not the literal first touch, but the first one that had sparked a realization. 

That touch  _ had  _ just been an accident. Truly hadn’t meant anything. They had been walking somewhere with the rest of the boys, making their way through a crowd, when their hands had bumped each other. It had lasted no time at all. Had signified nothing. It was no different from countless touches before. But it had jolted something in Liam.  

That barely-touch he shouldn’t have even noticed had made all the interest and admiration he had always felt come into focus. It had made Liam think it might not stem from friendship, but something else entirely. 

He had known he and Zayn were closer friends than he’d ever had before – no one in his hometown had ever come close, even those he loved dearly. But he was closer friends with  _ all  _ the boys than he’d ever been with anyone before. And they  _ all _ touched. All the time, actually. They were always in each others’ spaces, those five. Proper cuddlers, the lot of them. 

But that touch – in the midst of rushing through a throng of strangers with his four best mates – had felt new. Different somehow. It had felt vital. And he had wanted to feel it again. Even if he didn’t quite understand why. 

And on mornings like this, when he and Zayn are tangled up in each other and Liam wakes up early enough before Zayn to reminisce like this, he marvels at how that touch – that stupid, insignificant, fleeting touch – had led to the first exploratory arm brush, and then the second. Had led to the first kiss, followed by hundreds more, and then thousands. Had led to the first sleepover, with everything that followed the morning after it, and the nights after that. Had led to this. 

He closes his eyes and inhales until his lungs feel as full as his heart. He holds the air in for a few moments and a smile pulls at the corners of his lips as he squeezes Zayn’s hand once more, pulling it as far into his chest as he possibly can. He exhales slowly, basking in the warmth of Zayn’s arm around him, his body pressed up against his. He pulls his face toward their hands, eyes still shut, and presses a firm, long kiss to Zayn’s fingers. 

“Mmmm… ‘morning, babe.” 

Liam smiles and pulls his eyes open.  

“You been up long?” 

“Not too long. Just having a little think.” 

“Bit early for that, innit, love?”

Liam laughs and nibbles playfully at Zayn’s hand. 

“Oi! Back to sleep, wanker. Some of us are trying to have a proper lie in.”

Liam turns slowly around to face Zayn, wrapping his arm around him. At last. As much as he’s enjoyed being held by his love, he missed holding  _ him. _

Zayn’s eyes are still closed, his impossibly lush, dark lashes fanned out across his gorgeous cheekbones. 

“Morning, Z.” He leans in and presses a light kiss just at the outer edge of Zayn’s eye. 

As he pulls back, Zayn’s eyes flutter open, the deep wells of beautiful brown drawing Liam in to kiss him again. And again. And once more. 

Zayn huffs a sleepy giggle as he flings his leg over Liam’s hip and pulls him in close. 

And just like that, Liam is wrapped in warmth again. They both are. 

And it’s just right.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! <3 <3 <3
> 
> Tumblr post is [here](http://uhohmorshedios.tumblr.com/post/182921560320) if that's your thing.


End file.
